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Miracles exist, |
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So many that it's shocking. |
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Surely we can't resist |
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To sometimes go |
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Sherlocking. |
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This hairpin is a clue, |
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If this headstone is a mystery |
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Whose tenant has been screwed |
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By high winds and history. |
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There is a snake inside the office. |
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There is a weight inside the airplane. |
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The scientist creates |
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Another strain. |
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The pin-up was pent-up, |
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Her patience was spent up, |
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On clothing and close-ups, |
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And 2 minute touch-ups. |
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Blown by the airbrush, |
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Dolled up and drugged up, |
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By 5 minute fuck-ups, |
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With hairbrush and blood lust. |
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But now that she's safe |
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And away from the scene, |
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She keeps getting voicemail |
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On her message machine. |
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They sing, "Call me when you want to have it all again." |
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Leave a teardrop on the rooftop |
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To evaporate at dawn. |
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Maybe it's an S.O.S. for who it falls upon. |
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I know that it's a long shot |
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But it's one I'm counting on. |
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Dreaming Dimwits take a stand, |
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On this night we must demand, |
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Let the microscope be |
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Damned, |
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By the hammers in our hands. |
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Calmly we're dissolving |
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On the exit frame. |
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These are unusual fissions. |
